Bad Timing
by PragmaticHominid
Summary: Raditsu muses on the vagaries of time and fate that allowed him to survive his planet's destruction, and what this means for his ultimate destiny. Written for the monthly drabble contest at the DA DBZ fic community. The prompt was 'timing'. Please R&R.


**Bad Timing**

Raditsu had only a grunt's fuzzy conception of the movements and workings of interstellar bodies. Still, he understood (in a vague sort of way, that made his head ache and his hands long to tear the throat from something weaker and softer than himself) that if the meteorite had passed through Vegetasei's orbit only a short time sooner or later, everything would have been fine. It would have passed by harmlessly, instead of transforming his planet and people into a cloud of brunt rumble.

The timing of that damnable piece of space rock couldn't have been worse. As though it had willed their complete destruction, the meteorite had struck when almost everyone was on-world, in anticipation of Furiza's scheduled visit.

That one had no sense of time, and no conception that he might be inconveniencing others. Furiza was rarely where he was supposed to be when he said he would be there, and once he finally showed up he might overstay his welcome indefinitely or leave within the hour, and never mind all the expense and planning that had gone into making the necessary arrangements to host him. But the King played Furiza's games by Furiza's rules because he had no choice, and grunts like Raditsu played the King's games for the same reason.

Furiza might come and go whenever the whim struck him, but King Vegeta had no tolerance for inefficacy or tardiness on the part of his subjects. Failure to arrive in a timely fashion was likely to have deadly repercussions.

But in the days before Vegetasei's destruction, it had seemed to Raditsu that the entire universe was conspiring to make him for the troop inspection. The natives on the planet he'd been working hadn't been much, and he'd finished the job - or close for government work - on schedule and with plenty of time to make it back home. But a handful of the critters he'd missed had found his ship just a few hours before he'd meant to leave, and by the time he'd put a stop to that they'd already done a number on the thing.

He'd spent the next three days talking to tech support over his scouter, trying to repair a machine he barely understood with the guidance of an equally incomprehensible tech. The voice on the other end of the line had been mushy and nasal, as though the alien lacked the soft palate necessary to speak to the standard tongue properly. Between the accent and the liberal use of technical jargon, every third word that the tech spoke remained an infuriating mystery.

Raditsu had no way to establish a visual connection, and realizing early on that it would be impossible for the Saiyajin to target himself or his race for reprisals later, the tech had quickly become insufferably smug and condescending. He refused to identify himself by name, or to connect Raditsu to his superior, or to send out a new ship, no matter how creative or emphatic Raditsu's threats became.

By the time he had the ship working again, Raditsu was functioning in a constant state of low-grade rage that was just barely enough to hold back the panic. And he was so far behind schedule that there was a bad chance that he wouldn't make it back home in time.

Timing. Everything came down to it.

He missed the destruction of his planet by less than six hours.

Saiyajin were not sentimental beings, and the grief and shock faded quickly. In their wake came a sense of having been singled out, set aside by fate for something special. It felt as though the universe had conspired to keep him - above all others - safe, to hold him back for some future task. Despite all the Prince's boasting, Raditsu began to nurse a secret suspicion that he himself might be destined to become the legendary Super Saiyajin.

Therefore, when the name of the planet that his hapless little brother had been shipped out to came to Raditsu suddenly - after decades of trying to pry the memory from his brain - it seemed to Raditsu that the timing could only be auspicious. He set out to claim the boy, certain that the trip would somehow provide the impetus to set his fate in motion. He was Raditsu, and he was destined for great things. How could it be otherwise?


End file.
